


that which remains

by MistressKat



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 23:04:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12178233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/pseuds/MistressKat
Summary: The vampires don’t win.





	that which remains

**Author's Note:**

> Written for randomly selected fandom and prompt (post apocalypse)

The vampires don’t win. Mitchell isn’t even that surprised. For a while there he’d believed, thought ‘maybe’ and swallowed the party line, but he just couldn’t fool himself for long. It was always a pipe dream, a deranged fantasy of Herrick and his ilk, those who hadn’t quite grasped just how much the humans had developed during the last century, how far their technology and weapons had taken them.   
  
In the end, fangs and superhuman strength have nothing on nuclear missiles that can be directed from another country. The bio weapon was the final strike, all but wiping vampires off the face of the earth; a cleverly designed virus that sought out a marker in the altered vampire DNA that they themselves hadn’t even known was there. Because they hadn’t thought to look, relying on lore and myth and an overdeveloped sense of superiority.   
  
Not all died. Some, like Mitchell, survived, weakened and relying on others for protection and sustenance. Of course, most such vampires didn’t last long because most didn’t have the kind of friends Mitchell did.   
  
George and Annie refuse to let him waste away. They move shelters every few days, George fighting off anyone who dares to challenge them while Annie lures in people she deems disposable for Mitchell to drink from.   
  
Not that he could do even that much on some days. Instead, it’s George, fully in control of his transformation now, who slits their throats with one razor sharp claw, holding the bubbling wound to Mitchell’s mouth, feeding him like a child, forcing him to swallow when he tries to refuse.   
  
Most days, Mitchell doesn’t know if it is a blessing or a curse to still be here. And then George and Annie – corporal when she makes the effort –curl on either side of him to rest, and he thinks perhaps it is worth surviving the apocalypse for this: the snatched moments of peace and safety, of feeling like he belongs.   
  



End file.
